Keter
The Renegade
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing. Birds chirped in the distance. As it had ever been, depsite war and ruin, Naboo endured as a jewel amidst the stars.
And how he loathed it.
Naboo. Perfect frakking Naboo. A symbol of what exactly? Triumph? Paradise? What brought the factions of the galaxy continually back to this blasted little rock? It had precious little value strategically and economically. It offered nothing but a name. The chance to flaunt that Naboo was in their dominion. It was all so stupid.
He worked in silence, shut off from the world. The shovel bit into the earth over and over again as he dug down. A perfectly neat rectangle, four feet wide, seven long, and six deep. The latest addition to a long row all ready and waiting for their occupants. It didn't matter what was currently happening - there would always be a need for graves on Naboo. It never changed.
And how he loathed it.
Somewhere in this cementary, his wife lay. Lay still and rotting away. A woman full of life and knowledge, and love, too much love - nothing more than a cold piece of meat falling apart within the soil of the planet she had chosen over them. He was being irrational. He was being unfair. He didn't care. He had loved her, and she had loved him - just not more than a hunk of dirt hurtling through space. She had had two perfect daughters, two girls who never wanted anything else than for their mother to be there. To smile and praise them when they ran and danced. When they wrote silly stories about tauntauns and banthas. To fuss over their dirty clothes when they come home from exploring the nearby wastes. To watch over them as they read and drew and dreamed.
But so often she wasn't. She couldn't - Naboo needed her. Legislation needed signing. Speeches needed ot be made. Trade pacts arranged. His wife had made a promise to herself, and had sacrificed everything for this planet. And the world didn't care. It continued on as it always did. Her name adorned the wall in the palace listing all the glorious queens who had ruled. She was just a name now. A name he refused to utter. She had never meant to hurt them. But she had. And she knew it. And all she offered was conciliatory gestures. Felicity had gotten a chance to bond with her a tad, once she was too old, when they had to introduce themselves and get to know each other as if they had been strangers. And what of Celeste? What memories would she carry of her mother?
He didn't know. He didn't know if he even cared. SInce his wife's death, there had been nothing but ice. Ice and numbness. He was a poor parent - he had always been. He had never known what to say, what to do. He had tried to raise the girls as best he could, but they never wanted him. They wanted their mother. Mother was God in the eyes of the child. Felicity had gotten her wish, and been overjoyed at the chance to spend time with her queenly parent.
So much had changed. Once he had travelled. Once he had schemed. Once he had had ambition. All that had been swept away in the whirlwind that was romance. He had become passive, a spent force, reisgned to his fate. He had been happy. A few brief years of peace before his wife had to go off again. He had visited when he could, but as a born slave, he had never felt comfortable amongst the high society of Naboo. She had known that, and forgiven the rarity of his visits. Besides, with his attitude, it was surely only a matter of time before he caused an interplanetary incident.
The shovel continued to churn up dirt as he shoved it down again and again.
Naboo was not a jewel. It was a monster. One that needed slaying. Once, he would have tried to do so himself. But he was no one now.
And how he loathed it.
Naboo. Perfect frakking Naboo. A symbol of what exactly? Triumph? Paradise? What brought the factions of the galaxy continually back to this blasted little rock? It had precious little value strategically and economically. It offered nothing but a name. The chance to flaunt that Naboo was in their dominion. It was all so stupid.
He worked in silence, shut off from the world. The shovel bit into the earth over and over again as he dug down. A perfectly neat rectangle, four feet wide, seven long, and six deep. The latest addition to a long row all ready and waiting for their occupants. It didn't matter what was currently happening - there would always be a need for graves on Naboo. It never changed.
And how he loathed it.
Somewhere in this cementary, his wife lay. Lay still and rotting away. A woman full of life and knowledge, and love, too much love - nothing more than a cold piece of meat falling apart within the soil of the planet she had chosen over them. He was being irrational. He was being unfair. He didn't care. He had loved her, and she had loved him - just not more than a hunk of dirt hurtling through space. She had had two perfect daughters, two girls who never wanted anything else than for their mother to be there. To smile and praise them when they ran and danced. When they wrote silly stories about tauntauns and banthas. To fuss over their dirty clothes when they come home from exploring the nearby wastes. To watch over them as they read and drew and dreamed.
But so often she wasn't. She couldn't - Naboo needed her. Legislation needed signing. Speeches needed ot be made. Trade pacts arranged. His wife had made a promise to herself, and had sacrificed everything for this planet. And the world didn't care. It continued on as it always did. Her name adorned the wall in the palace listing all the glorious queens who had ruled. She was just a name now. A name he refused to utter. She had never meant to hurt them. But she had. And she knew it. And all she offered was conciliatory gestures. Felicity had gotten a chance to bond with her a tad, once she was too old, when they had to introduce themselves and get to know each other as if they had been strangers. And what of Celeste? What memories would she carry of her mother?
He didn't know. He didn't know if he even cared. SInce his wife's death, there had been nothing but ice. Ice and numbness. He was a poor parent - he had always been. He had never known what to say, what to do. He had tried to raise the girls as best he could, but they never wanted him. They wanted their mother. Mother was God in the eyes of the child. Felicity had gotten her wish, and been overjoyed at the chance to spend time with her queenly parent.
So much had changed. Once he had travelled. Once he had schemed. Once he had had ambition. All that had been swept away in the whirlwind that was romance. He had become passive, a spent force, reisgned to his fate. He had been happy. A few brief years of peace before his wife had to go off again. He had visited when he could, but as a born slave, he had never felt comfortable amongst the high society of Naboo. She had known that, and forgiven the rarity of his visits. Besides, with his attitude, it was surely only a matter of time before he caused an interplanetary incident.
The shovel continued to churn up dirt as he shoved it down again and again.
Naboo was not a jewel. It was a monster. One that needed slaying. Once, he would have tried to do so himself. But he was no one now.
